Naked weird looking dudes - yes my alpacas.

Toshi and True are finally nakie, skinny, weird, extraterrestrial looking dudes walking around the paddock. 

A few years ago I took up my friend’s offer of guidance during our first try at shearing our alpacas.  Hubby did better than I did; it was really hard feeling and seeing where I was going on their bodies under the fleece and I was scared of slicing them open.  

Truesdale is extremely unhappy with my styling efforts of 2013.  MacIntosh decided to go on strike, sitting down on the job, until he received better fringe benefits.

We averaged 40 minutes per alpaca.  It was a great experience to learn how to shear them but 40 minutes is a huge amount of time for the poor guys to be shackled on a table while I fluff around. I can only imagine a year on that time would blow out while trying to remember how to go about making them nude without the experienced supervision. 

For the cost of a shearer it is much easier to take them up the road to be shorn with our neighbours ‘pacas by Ian, a top gun shearer, and his son Michael.  I timed them this year – 5 to 8 minutes per alpaca including vaccinating, a refreshing drink of delicious drench for worms, a pedicure and the latest hair style!!  Far less stress for me, not to mention for True and Mac as well.

The shearers come complete with their own gear - table, generator, clippers and this year extra eye candy in the form of Quinton from the USA on a working visa helping them.
  

The table and shackles holding the alpaca look like some medieval torture rack but I can assure you it is not harming the animal in fact it is the gentlest and best way to stop the alpaca from hurting itself while being shorn, especially for alpacas not used to being handled. An alpaca looks to be a cuddly gentle animal but in fact can be very feisty, they also spit the foulest smelling cud when feeling confronted. 

Years ago my husband met a man who wrapped himself in rubber foam sheets secured together with packaging tape around his body. I sort of have the Michelin man in mind when I think of this. He then sheared his alpacas in a standing position; their heads tied to a post so they couldn’t cush (sit down).  They kicked out at him but the rubber absorbed the blows.    

To try to shear an alpaca in the same manner as a sheep would hurt the ‘paca’s back and be extremely difficult and uncomfortable on the shearer due to the animals size.

With the temperature about to skyrocket into the low to mid 30 degrees Celsius I bet my boys will be glad of the indignity of being hoisted on a table and being undressed. 

2015 the shearers are much better hairstylists than I am!

Braidwood a historic little town

What better thing to do on a rainy day than be a tourist in town.  With the ‘Historic Braidwood Town Walk map’  firmly in my grasp  and the rain lightly falling I wandered the streets for a few hours and thoroughly enjoyed myself.

It’s not often I can take time out to ‘smell the roses’ and I have to say the roses are particularly beautiful at this time of year. The gardens look so much prettier in the rain; the leaden sky sheds a lovely diffused light making everything look softer, while the droplets of rain lying gently on the petals cleanse and refresh the blooms.

Braidwood was the first NSW rural town to be heritage listed in 2006, following a period of unpleasant dispute between those who wanted to preserve the town’s character and charm and those wishing to develop it.

The village was established in 1837 being named after Dr. Thomas Braidwood Wilson who had been granted land here in 1826.  Dr. Wilson was the surgeon superintendent on several convict ships to NSW from 1822.

When gold was discovered 1851 in nearby Araluen Valley and other surrounding areas the population of Braidwood swelled to over 10,000, this was when many of the substantial buildings were constructed.

Welcome to my town - Braidwood NSW.

 Wallace Street Braidwood - park end

Still on the main street

This house in Elrington Street dates to the 1840’s being the oldest dwelling in town. 

The old Maternity Hospital circa 1860’s was run by a sister of the notorious Clarke Brothers, the bushrangers who ran riot during the gold rush in this area. The building is now an antique store.  The owners have a bizarre sense of humour, note the mannequin holding the baby in the top dormer window!

All country towns have at least one pub.  Braidwood has two but at the height of the gold rush eleven hotels had been built to entertain the predominantly male population.

The Braidwood Hotel (formerly the Commercial Hotel) built 1859 is the oldest in Braidwood and still licensed.

The Royal  Hotel rebuilt in 1890 on the site of an earlier ‘Royal Hotel’.  The original name was changed to the Royal Mail Hotel in 1969 when scenes were filmed there for the movie “Ned Kelly’ starring Mick Jagger. I always thought Mick J was an odd choice to play our infamous bushranger.

The owners of the Royal Mail Hotel and some guests will tell you the pub is haunted. Room 14 in particular features lots of strange activity.  Well darn when I stayed there I wasn’t visited by any ghostly apparitions but then I wasn’t lodged in room 14, I always miss out on the fun, but if I had known about the pub being haunted I don’t think I would have slept very well, constantly checking there wasn’t a spook at the end of my bed.

Ryrie Park.  Dr. Wilson and prominent settlers provided exotic plants and flowers for the grounds. It’s a bit like a botanical garden with the trees labelled with their exotic unpronounceable names.  Markets are held in the park once a month. It is a lovely place to sit for awhile.

The Post Masters residence 1865

Workers cottages from 1860 have survived in nearly original condition and yes they are lived in. How cute are they! 

This is the old Wesleyan Church. It is now a private residence. I do wonder about its occupants.  There is a creepy baby mannequin suspended from the ceiling, sort of flying in front of the left window.

What town is complete without a few churches.  St Bedes Catholic Church and St Andrew’s Anglican Church are both built of local granite.

St Andrew's Anglican Church

St Bede's Catholic Church

I love this cute quirky building. It houses the Braidwood Times newspaper.

The ‘Villa” circa 1850’s.

The Granite Store 1870

The Commercial Banking Company built in 1888 as a bank and managers residence certainly reflects the prosperity of the gold mining era.

The Albion Hotel 1872 was the most luxurious hotel in Braidwood and had a reputation for excellent food it is now a cafe on the lower level.

  Braidwood’s first bank The Joint Stock Bank built about 1855 . 

Tidmarsh was an Inn built circa 1856.  It appears today exactly as it did in 1862, complete with shingled roof.

Built as another hotel in 1845 of local granite this building now houses the Braidwood museum.

If you guessed another Hotel you are right!  The Criterion Hotel 1870.  A feature of this hotel was a long stool on the Wallace Street footpath on which patrons sat to watch the 

passing parade. 

This court house was built 1900 on the site of the earliest courthouse of 1837.

If you are ever passing through town do visit the Dojo Bread shop. The yummiest bread is made from this rustic little shop.

There are so many lovely cottages and just as many beautiful gardens.

I hope you enjoyed your tour of Braidwood as much as I did! 

Death by quad does not become me!

There is a general theory if you can ride a push bike and drive a manual car then there is a good chance you also have the skills to learn how to ride a motorbike.  

So what's wrong with me? I drive a manual car, I can ride a push bike but I can’t get the idea of balance and power on the motor bike. I need training wheels!

My husband and son both have dirt bikes. They do a lot of trail riding.  I fervently wished I could go with them. I was so jealous.   I tried to talk my husband into doubling me but he wasn’t up for it. Finally he bought me a small quad.  I timidly rode it around the flat part of the paddock. With four wheels on the ground, it felt good and stable.  On the third day of owning it we decided we would try a trail ride.

All was going well; I was not doing anything beyond my capabilities. My husband was following along behind me, staying close. Then that yellow devil on four wheels bucked me down into a six foot deep gully!

I see a devil bug looking back at me, perhaps it is possessed.

OK, I will admit it was driver error.  We were heading down hill. I felt I was going too fast so I applied the hand brake. Turns out I actually pulled in the clutch so instead of slowing, the quad gained downhill momentum in neutral.  

It was flying. 

I was terrified. 

I had no control of the quad. 

It happened so quickly. 

Next thing the front wheels hit a rut on a bend beside the gully. 

I was airborne.  

I watched in horror as the bottom of the gully come rushing up at my face. 

The quad landed on top of me, I was pinned under it with my head just inches from the water in the gully.  My poor husband thought I was dead until I started screaming to get the quad off me.  The exhaust pipe was burning me through my jeans. 

I was very lucky to be able to walk away, albeit I had burns from the exhaust pipe, lots of skin off from shoulders to shins and bruises all over my body. I was a hobbling array of bruise colours and have never been so sore in all my life.  I provided a soft landing for the quad – all it suffered was a broken light switch. 

The most recent study of quad related deaths in Australia was conducted in 2013. There were 21 deaths reported; of these over half were rollover incidents where the rider was crushed by the machine and asphyxiated.   

Much to my husband’s angst I insisted on riding the horrid yellow devil home.   I am stubborn.  I applied the old saying “When you fall off the horse, you have to get back on”, mind you, I sniveled all the way and drove it so slowly I may as well have walked (had I been able to). 

So I figure if I can do this much damage with a quad what would I do on a motor bike; maybe I will just leave the two wheels to the boys.  

These days I have a larger quad to get around the farm on, not a huge monster but lovely and stable and big enough for me to pull a wonderful little all purpose trailer my husband built for me. I really couldn’t do without my quad but I ride it with lots of respect.

 Coffee the goat rider

You've got to be kidding!

An up date on baby #1. 

I am so happy to report after three days she has her sight.  With gaining her sight she began lifting her head which strengthened the neck muscles and in turn helped the hunched shoulders and straightened her sway back.  She is now romping around my kitchen as a normal kid would do. 

I must say those few days were very demanding. I carried her everywhere I went, if I didn’t she would yell the place down needing to know where I was. We were doing the four hourly feeds, I didn’t need to set my alarm to get up and feed her, her yelling woke the entire farm. Now I am sure any new mother would be green with envy to learn she is 4 days old and last night slept 10 hours straight!  

So I will have to find a name for her.  Sometimes a name will come to me straight away other times I have to ruminate on it.  Well she was sitting in my lap a few minutes ago and the name ‘Xanthe’ popped into my head, so Xanthe it is.  I can just imagine my family rolling their eyes at that one. Ah well, with animals we can get away with naming them something a little unusual.

Xanthe

I remember now what it is like being a new mother.  Dishes stacked in the sink, bed unmade, and the house desperately needs a vacuum, hair un-brushed; did I remember to brush my teeth this morning? Same clothes on for the past...hmm is it three days, they are covered in some interesting stains.  So damned tired I can hardly think straight.

It is not just having a new baby to care for but all the other demands on the farm which snowball all at once.  My quad decided to die in the driveway so to move things around for the goats I don’t have the quad trailer; I now have to push a wheelbarrow over all terrain.  Yesterday afternoon a silly doe decided to jump into it as I was moving hay for them, she broke the legs on the barrow. I can still wheel it but not put it down as everything in it topples out.

Otis has Urinary calculi again, there is a lot of blood in his urine, I am extremely concerned for my gorgeous boy, anti-inflammatory, steroids and anitbiotics don’t appear to be helping much this time. 

I have to keep checking a doe is feeding her babies, I think she would prefer I do it for her so she can go off shopping all day.

Jasmine’s little girl has a turned lower eyelid which I treat twice a day; another kid’s eye needs looking at as well.  They do insist on playing in the dirt.

I am still waiting on this last doe to kid.  The other night at 9pm she was breathing strangely, a little like panting, I thought she may have been in the early stages of labour. I checked her at 11pm, 1am; 3am; 5am; 7am.  No, she just wanted to keep me up all night!

Never in ten years have I had such a trying kidding season.  It is full on with hardly a break before I am needed for the next birth. 

Did my Does not read the Boer Goat Manual?  Quote” Normally kidding is a hands off situation with no need for assistance. Rarely do Boer goats give birth at night” unquote.

So far I have had to assist 7 of the 15 pregnant does due to abnormal kid positions. Front feet first babies, Please!!!  Or the amniotic sac has not broken by itself therefore if I do not break it baby would drown after being born in what kept it safe inside. If I had been aware of 2 other does being in labour I may have 3 more live babies.  

Assisting means going in with my hand – Oh Yes – the mothers love that and are so co operative – Not. While my girls are generally quiet in nature they become untrusting she devils in labour.

This is the scene from the first delivery this year.  Keep in mind I only had to assist twice before in ten years of kidding at our place and never at night.

My doe has been in labour too long, straining for at least two hours.  It is 9.30pm. I have to grab her by a horn, use the other hand to get a dog collar and lead on her all while she is pulling and twisting to get away from me. Then I literally drag her to a tree to secure her to. Ever tried to drag a 50kg + goat someplace they don’t want to go?  This one had me skidding on my bum! 

Now I can go exploring gently up her ‘whatsit’ to my wrist to figure out baby’s position.  I have a head lamp on, another torch illuminating the puffy end.  In I go.   Is that a head? Where the hell are the legs? What is that squishy thing I am feeling?   I need to find legs to gentle draw them forward so baby can be born with ease.   No Legs, now I am panicking, how do I help this doe?

Thankfully my good friend is a far more experienced goat midwife than I am.  She is on speed dial.  Mobile phone on loud speaker and for once actually in a spot it can pick up reception here in “Black spot for all technology land’.  It is now 10pm. I wail to her I have no idea what I am feeling; I simply can’t make it out.  My friend talks me through what I am feeling.  She makes me laugh, she tells me she is miming what she is telling me to do while on the other end of the line.  I have to try to find shoulders then ease my hand around them until I find a foot.  Well finally young “Prince Harry” was born.  Yeah I know, I shouldn’t name the boys but this little guy just reminds me of Prince Harry.   His sister is born five minutes later with no help from me, phew!

Prince Harry

Warning:  Explicit photos of a goat giving birth follow.

This is my beautiful Missy, She was thoughtful enough to need help with her babies during daylight hours and as you can see from the last photo quite thankful.

The first baby has both legs backwards

You have a son Missy

Second one on the way

A girl this time

 Aren't I clever?  Yes Missy very clever.